


Making the Best of the Worst

by padaleckifantrash



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, they are in the pit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 08:17:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7610572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padaleckifantrash/pseuds/padaleckifantrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is for a rare ship creation challenge, based on the poem Dream-land by Edgar Allan Poe.</p><p>//</p><p>Lucifer just wants Sam to be happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making the Best of the Worst

The wind whooshed past Sam’s face, tendrils of chestnut hair dancing across his tan features. He opened his eyes and leaned back on his hands, long legs stretched in front of him. Warmth cascaded from the heavens and bathed the hunter in warmth not unlike a mother’s. Grass tickled the paler skin of his exposed ankles and a ladybug dropped down onto his pant leg. 

“Where are we now?” Sam asked, staring off into the large expanse of scenery. 

“You saw this for a moment when driving on the highway to Ocala with your brother and father when you were eight,” Lucifer replied, the baritone voice dripping golden honey. “You wanted to ask if you guys could stop so you could look around but you knew John wouldn’t allow it.” His response from Sam was just a huff of laughter, just short of being of disbelief.

“A-And, you just—what? Got it from my memory?” Sam laughed, turning his head to look at the fallen angel beside him, lips stretched in a lazy grin, dimples soft caverns on his cheeks.

“Yep,” Lucifer said and slowly turned his own head to gaze upon his vessel. “And this—“ A strong gust of wind hit them from the side and they were in an entirely new place. “This is—“

“Luci, _no_ ,” Sam whined but shook with laughter, rolling onto his side, covering his face with his hands.

“ _This_ is that middle school dance back in Georgia,” Lucifer chuckled watching the scene of a puberty-stricken boy trying to kiss a girl for the first time. He leaned over and heaved the other male onto his lap and pried his hands away from his eyes. Sam’s hair tickled his nose where he had his face, lips a ghostly touch against the hunter’s red ear. “She pushed you and said you use too much tongue,” the archangel said lowly, enveloping Sam’s hands with his own.

“God—and it was all because I saw my brother kiss more often than I should have,” Sam bit back, but there was no trace of resentment in his voice. Only bubbling jubilee.

_Whoosh._

Sam gasped at the next scene, heat surfacing on his chest and face.

“Holly Macintosh,” purred Lucifer and nipped at his vessel’s ear before he transported them elsewhere.

They looked to be in the field from the first part of their tour of Sam’s mind, but it was nighttime. Cool wind blew at them softly. The hunter didn’t know if it was cold or hot where they were because all he could feel was Lucifer’s solid body behind him as he leaned back. Several minutes passed in silence before Sam spoke.

“Do you think Michael will try to stop you from—from showing me this?” he asked, letting his head fall back against the muscular torso.

“Probably. He’s pissed and a vengeful little fucker so I’ll have to fight to show you this at some point,” the fallen angel sighed, hands coming up to play with his vessel’s hair.

“Why are you doing this? Why… Why are you protecting me?” 

The words hung heavy in the air, Sam turning to curl himself more into the other.

“Because I love you, Sam. I love you as Sam and as my vessel and I’d do anything to protect you,” he mumbled, scratching along the man’s scalp. “I don’t care how hard or for how long I’ll have to fight. I want you happy in this shitty place.”

Minutes passed—or, years, Sam had no idea how time worked in Hell—without either of them speaking. Lucifer kept the scene on the field and held Sam tight in his arms. 

“I love you, Sam,” the fallen angel spoke, voice as quiet as the soft wind blowing against them. Sam wasn’t surprised by the words, but he still felt his stomach burst with warmth.

“I love you, too.”


End file.
